Roman Holiday
by OnlyOneSymptom
Summary: AU/AH Inspired by Roman Holiday A dissatisfied Princess Isabella runs away in Rome and finds herself in the company of the one and only Edward Masen.
1. Prologue

**Hello loves! This is just a bit of fluff I've been thinking about for a while. The first chapter is in the process of being typed, so give me a few minutes and it will be posted too. Please let me know what you think of the idea, etc. I'm not certain how I feel about it yet. I think I like it, or I wouldn't be writing it, of course.**

**This is dedicated to my wonderful mother, who I have finally let read my works after many years. She is the most encouraging fan I've got and I wouldn't be who I am without her. Plus, I last watched Roman Holiday with her and she made me feel less ridiculous for crying. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Neither do I own Roman Holiday.**

Prologue – BPOV

PRINCESS ISABELLA ENDS EUROPEAN TOUR IN ROME

I snorted and placed the paper on my lap. European tour, yes. Yes, I had toured Europe. All the major capitols. And what a tour it was. In London, I did not see the Tower of London, Big Ben, the Eye of London, nor that wax museum everyone talks about. Neither did I eat fish and chips. In Berlin I had not been allowed to walk along the remains of the Berlin wall or enter any beer halls. In Paris I had not gone to the Eiffel Tower, the Champs-Elysees, le Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, Notre Dame, Sacre Coeur, or Montmartre. In Amsterdam I had not even been allowed to leave the embassy for fear I'd catch a whiff of hash.

The rest of the capitols had been similar. I had met with all the heads of state and most of the press corps. I had attended many balls and gone to many factories to make statements about furthering trade cooperation. I had at least enjoyed my trips to schools and orphanages. Their joyous smiles made it all seem worthwhile.

But as my trip drew to a close, I found myself losing my mind. I was going stir-crazy and I had traveled across all of Europe in a month! I suppose it was because every embassy looked the same. I didn't feel like I had gone anywhere at all.

And now I was in Rome. Rome, a place I had dreamed of since childhood. And I would not be able to see it, to experience it and drink it in the way I wanted to. It was enough to drive a girl to drink.

But I kept it in, contained my frustration.

After, there were appearances to keep.

**Short, I know. But the first chapter is on the way.**

**Again, please let me know what you think. I need feedback, dahlings. **

**Love Always,  
OnlyOneSymptom**


	2. Chapter 1 BPOV

**Chapter one is now up and raring to go. This chapter, and some of the next chapter, are less that light-hearted, but I promise the main story is. And please, please, please let me know what you think. I need feedback.**

**Also, for those of you who have seen Roman Holiday: This will end better. Much better. I hate the end of Roman Holiday.**

**For those of you who haven't: Go rent it. Now. It's got Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck, what's not to love?**

**Don't own 'em.**

Chapter One – BPOV

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Princess Isabelle de la Cynge of Fourchette."

The announcer's voice was followed by the sound of perfect applause. Loud enough to show welcome, but contained enough allow the audience to maintain their aloofness.

I entered on the arm of one of my guardians, General Whitlock. He led me to the dais in the grand hall of the embassy. He stopped me before I could sit. Ah yes, there was a line of dignitaries. I had to greet each one before I could sit.

About mid-way through the line, my feet began to ache. The heels I was wearing were less than comfortable. So I lifted my left foot out from one shoe, thankfully hidden by my floor-length gown, and flexed and stretched my foot before returning it to my shoe. My right foot was next. I kept my public face on, the one with the perfect detached smile, and continued to shake hands and exchange pleasantries.

The line was rapidly disappearing, so I went to return my foot to my heel.

And then I knocked it over.

With my public smile still on, I sought to right my shoe. I was frantic. The line was gone. It was time for me to sit. The general helped me to my seat. My shoe peaked out of the edge of my gown. Soon, someone was going to notice. I tried to scoot down in my chair to reach it with my toes, but I could not scoot much without it being noticeable.

There was a slight disturbance around me as my companions realized what had occurred. I was having difficulty controlling my breathing – the panic was setting in.

Suddenly, General Whitlock stood and offered me his hand. I looked up at him, puzzled. He made a slight motion with his head toward my shoe, but said aloud, "May I have this dance, Your Highness?"

I sighed in relief as I smiled and accepted with perfect, distant courtesy. As I stood, we both paused and I fixed my shoes, and then we moved to the dance floor. Once in full swing, I murmured my thanks.

Unfortunately, now that I had begun dancing, I was not allowed to sit. Diplomat after politician after dignitary asked me to dance without pause in between. It was painful. Each of my partners was a politician through and through, and each was trying to schmooze and smooth-talk his way into my good graces. It was obnoxious. Didn't they know this was just a goodwill tour? My parents were the ruling monarchs, not I.

Despair set in as I danced with a stiff, gaunt-faced Italian.

I was supposed to be happy. I was living every girl's dream. I was a princess, for crying out loud. I was royalty, dressed in a designer ball gown and hobnobbing with Rome's best.

Yes all I could do was think about what I would be like to be normal. If I was normal, an ordinary nineteen year-old, it wouldn't matter if I was uncomfortable in heels. If I tool one off in a gathering of friends, no one would care. I wouldn't have to worry about causing minor international scandal. I wouldn't even know how to ballroom dance. I'd go out to a club on a Friday night instead of an embassy ball. I'd be allowed to choose my clothes.

The dance ended and I escaped the taciturn Italian into the arms of another oily diplomat. I couldn't focus for the rest of the evening. I kept my public face on, the one with the polite detached smile, but on the inside I was screaming and beating at the bars of my gilded cage.

After an eternity, I was allowed to retire. After all, I had a 10:30 bedtime.

My discontent continued into my palatial bedroom. I stared at my reflection in my mirror as I listless brushed my hair. I was wearing a floor-length white nightgown with long sleeves and a high collar.

"Why must I wear a nightgown every night?" I questioned Alice, my modern-day lady-in-waiting and General Whitlock's wife. "Couldn't I just wear a t-shirt to bed?"

"You don't own a t-shirt," Alice replied absently.

I was about to argue for the purchase of a t-shirt when I was distracted by a commotion out the window. I went over and leaned out.

On the street below, a group of young men and women had already gotten a little drunk. They were laughing and joking as they paraded their way to a destination unknown. I watched in fascination.

"Come away from there," Alice sighed. "If you catch a cold or fall out of a window I will never hear the end of it."

I cast one more longing glance out the window before turning away and climbing into bed. Alice handed me the traditional chamomile tea and pulled out my schedule.

I quickly moved to cut her off. I wasn't ready to face my duties just yet. "Why must I be so wholesome all the time? Prince William and Harry don't have to act all prim and proper all the time. They go to nightclubs and dress like Nazis and even go to war. why must I dress and act like I live in the forties?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "The people of Fourchette like their wholesome princess. You are supposed to exemplify the perfect woman: educated, polite, confident, wholesome, modest, and dignified. Going to nightclubs would ruin your image."

I settled back into bed with roiling thoughts. I didn't want to be the epitome of the perfect woman. I wanted to be a teenager, a young adult. I wanted to have friends and not retainers. I wanted to do something for fun and not for duty. I want to wear a skirt that showed my knees, or even pants, was that too much to ask?

Apparently so, for Alice pulled the schedule back out. I placed my empty cup on the bedside table and buried myself in my bed to listen. But as she began describing my early morning visit to a factory, despair grasped me fully in its hands again and I allowed myself to be swallowed by my comforter in an attempt to hid from reality.

I don't know how much time later, I realized Alice was shaking me. "Snap out of it, Isabella. Relax."

Snap out of it? Oh yes. I was crying. Crying hot, noisy tears and chanting "No" over and over again.

"Isabella, please, calm down," Alice was frantic. "Stop crying, you just have two more days. Hold it together."

That only made me cry harder. Two more torturous days before I returned to my beautiful prison-home with my loving jailer-parents. There was no escape.

"No escape from what, Isabella? Oh dear, you've gone into a full breakdown, haven't you. Oh dear."

I heard her heels clicking away quickly. After my door slammed shut I tried desperately to control my breathing and my crying. I was acting like a child and I knew it.

By the time Alice returned, flanked by the General and Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, I was sitting up in bed and had full control of myself. Alice took in my appearance with shock. "She was crying and carrying on when I left."

"I believe you," Dr. Cullen murmured as he approached me. He sat on the edge of my bed. "Are you feeling alright, Isabella?"

I gave him a shaky smile. Dr. Cullen had always been my physician and I felt very comfortable around him. But I also didn't want him to worry. "I'm fine. Really, everything is fine."

Dr. Cullen nodded, but pulled out a thermometer anyway. Ah he was checking my temperature, I noticed Mrs. Cullen jotting down notes. That stung. Mrs. Cullen – well, Dr. Cullen technically, but that got confusing – was my personal psychiatrist. I had never really needed her except as a confident who legally could not tell my parents. To see a woman I considered to be like my second mother taking notes on my hurt. Tears began stinging at my eyes.

"Her temperature is normal, but blood pressure is elevated."

I hadn't even noticed my blood pressure being checked. I was focused on Mrs. Cullen's pen flying across the page.

Vaguely I became aware of more talking.

"Will she be alright for tomorrow?"

"I don't know, it depends on her mood tomorrow."

"I'm alright, I'm alright!" I burst out. "I'll be perfect tomorrow, the perfect epitome of the perfect woman. I'll be polite; I'll be good. I promise I'll be good."

"She got upset again," General Whitlock observed. "Can you do something to control her please? We just have to get through the next few days."

"Maybe you should slap her?" Alice offered. "Isn't that what you do with hysterics?"

My breath was coming in gasps and I couldn't stop crying. They had to control me. They had to take notes on me. They had to get me though the next few days and then what? They'd lock me up?

I was sobbing full out now.

Arms wrapped around me and I clung to them for comfort.

"Hold her still." Sharp pain in my arm. "Got it. Alright, you can let her go."

Tricked. They hadn't wanted to comfort me. They wanted to restrain me.

"Alright, Isabella, you'll be okay now. What I just gave you will make you relaxed and happy and help you fall asleep, okay?"

I cried into my pillow.

"She'll calm down soon. Let's let her rest."

Their footsteps and voices faded and soon no one was watching me but the cherubs on the ceiling.

I began to settle. Dr. Cullen was right, I was feeling much better.

In fact, I was feeling splendid. I don't remember ever feeling so nice. I stretched and rolled about and giggled to myself in my vast bed as the cherubs looked on.

Another burst of laughter from the window and I dashed from my bed to look. It was another group of revelers, this one three sheets to the wind. They looked like they were having so much fun.

Suddenly I was seized with the most wonderful idea. I giggled aloud as I rushed to my wardrobe and dressed in one of my favorite outfits and my favorite shoes.

I knew my door was guarded, so I ran to the window again. I saw a clear way down and took it, giggling all the way down.

Once down in the garden, I laughed and danced in exuberance. What an adventure I was having! I stumbled away into the darkness, still giggling. I'd find a way off the grounds somehow.

I had never felt so nice.

**And she escapes!! **

**G'night!  
OnlyOneSymptom**


	3. Chapter 2 EPOV

**Hello my lovelies. I bring you chapter two! (It rhymes...) I just wanted to lay a few things straight based on emails/reviews. One: yes, this does take place in modern times. Two: it is not an exact replica of Roman Holiday. It definitely has the same basic plot, but with some big changes. You'll see. Also, the plan is that it will told in alternating POVs, from Bella to Edward. But there shouldn't be too much overlap of plot from chapter to chapter. Capice?**

**And with that, ladies and gentlemen, Chapter two! **

**Don't own 'em.**

Chapter Two – EPOV

It was a glorious night. I felt like singing. Which was strange considering I had just finished singing for hours.

But at a paying gig. I had just been paid to play the piano and sing. _Finally_. I coul eat this week. Really eat.

And they had liked me, which was the best part. The club patrons had loved me. And the manager had invited me back for the next weekend to play again.

I was exultant. Finally I was succeeding. Finally I could stop avoiding talking to my disappointed and bewildered parents. No longer could they point to my poverty as proof I should have stayed home and gone to university. Maybe now they wouldn't mention their friends' kids on the way to med-school or law school or something.

I sighed and shoved my hands in my pockets. Who was I kidding? They'd never cease to be disappointed in me. They had never understood my music.

I shook my head and rounded a corner. I would not let thoughts of my father and mother ruin my exuberant mood. I had just had a paying gig and it would only get better from here. Aro, the manager of the club I had played at, saw becoming a 'big thing' in Rome, maybe even Italy.

It was an incredible thought. My music was my life, my food, my manna in the –

There was a girl asleep on a bench.

My brain argued that it was none of my business where strange girls slept.

My upbringing was hitting my brain on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.

Irregardless of my brain and my upbringing's inner war, my feet moved me to the bench where the girl was sleeping.

She was pretty. More than pretty, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. She had long, thick brown hair that fell in wild disarray about her perfect and peaceful face. The deep blue of her high-necked, long-sleeved button-up made her skin seem the most beautiful ever. The high-waisted long black skirt she wore hinted very strongly at modesty, though the sexy heels dangling off her dainty feet suggested otherwise.

She glowed in the moonlight.

By the time I had made this assessment and committed the view to memory, my brain and upbringing had come to an agreement. Rather, the rolled up newspaper had cowed my brain into submission. Now my brain was aiding my more noble side in its argument that I needed to assist this damsel in distress. After all, a girl dressed so modestly and nicely would probably not be pleased with her situation come morning. And no girl should be left on the street unprotected. Any number of things could happen to her.

As I came to the conclusion that I had to help her, I realized I was being watched by the delightful creature on the bench. I stepped closer and offered her my hand. She placed her fingers lightly in mine and offered, "Charmed to make your acquaintance," with a distant smile.

So she was English then. English and crazy.

I kept my face neutral as I tugged her into a sitting position. "Are you alright, miss?"

She gave me a lazy, beautiful smile. "I'm so happy. So very, very happy."

Definitely crazy. Or drunk.

"Where do you live?" I hadn't let go of her hand yet, but she didn't seem to mind.

"The Coliseum," she intoned seriously, looking at me sternly.

"Mm-hmm. And when not living there, where do you live?" I let go of her hand and knelt to replace her shoes.

"The Parthenon. Or the Vatican," she replied airily. I felt her hand on top of my head. "Found my glass slipper, have you? Are you my Prince Charming?"

I got to my feet and laughed. "Yes, Princess, I'm your Prince Charming. But I've got to get you back home by midnight or I'll turn back into a pumpkin."

She looked disapprovingly at me. "If you were to turn back into a pumpkin, that would make you the carriage and not the prince."

I held me hand out to her again. "You've found me out. But I've got to convey you home. Where do you live?"

She accepted my hand and spun into me, laughing. She hit my chest softly before spinning out again like we were dancing. "The Coliseum!"

I sighed. I was clearly not going to get a straight answer from her right now. She needed to sober up before I could get her to tell me where she lived.

That left me with limited options. One: I could leave her here to sober up and check on her in the morning. That was a definite no. Far too dangerous for her. Two: sit here with her until she was able to tell me her address. That idea wasn't attractive either. Both of us could get mugged and I did want to get back to my apartment before the sun came up.

That left me with option three: take her back to my apartment and let her sleep it off.

Option three made me seem a lot more of a creep. But it was the best I could come up with.

So, with a sigh, I tugged on mystery girl's arm and led her towards my apartment. "Come along princess. You need to sleep off that magic potion you drank."

She giggled and hooked one arm in mine. "Will there be a pea under my mattress?"

I laughed. "No peas, I promise."

I walked and she skipped the final few blocks to my apartment. We walked under the arch and into the central courtyard. My princess stopped walking and stared around at the potted flowers and ironwork.

I started up the stairs and when she didn't follow, I tugged her hands. She broke from her stupor to spin into me with a delighted laugh. I smiled and led her upstairs.

Once inside, I let go of her and gestured towards the bed. "You can sleep there. I'll get you back to your castle in the morning."

"I'm not staying at my castle right now. I'm on holiday." She twirled again before facing me seriously. "May I have a nightgown?"

I snorted. "I don't own a nightgown. You can borrow a shirt."

I turned and grabbed an old track shirt of mine and a pair of boxers. When I turned back to her, I immediately averted my eyes. She had already lost the shoes and skirt and her blouse was unbuttoned. I threw her my clothes and retrieved her skirt from the floor.

I hung her skirt on a hanger, and her blouse when she handed it to me. There was no need for her things to get wrinkled.

I helped her into bed and pulled the covers up around her chin. She fell asleep immediately.

I was exhausted myself, so I poured her a glass of water and left it on my bedside table with some painkillers and crashed on the couch.

I fell asleep to thoughts of my poor drunk fairytale princess. Tomorrow would be interesting.

**Aw, Chivalward, how I love thee. **

**Thasit for now folks! Chapter three is in the works, but it needs some fine tuning. **

**Love always,  
OnlyOneSymptom**


	4. Chapter 3 BPOV

**I stayed up quite late to get this to you, oh my brothers. But I was feeling inspired, so it wasn't such a chore. Plus, I won't have the time to be inspired soon. Ah, exams. I really hope you like it. Oh, and all Italian is written in italics. Because I don't speak Italian. **

**I don't own 'em. Enjoy!**

Chapter Three – BPOV

Light filtered into my brain and I rolled to bury my head in the pillows that – no matter where I was – smelled like lavender.

The scent of Old Spice, faint sweat, and something indefinable hit my nose. I reveled in it for a moment before the light went on in my head. It occurred to me that I was not where I was supposed to be.

I froze as I remembered. The ball. Losing my shoe and the accompanying panic. Throwing a fit in my bedroom. Mrs. Cullen taking notes on me. Dr. Cullen drugging me. The escape. And then, nothing.

I sat up in horror. Where was I? I glanced wildly around. It was a small, one room apartment. A glance down told me I was wearing clothes that were not my own.

I took a breath. Panic would not help. I had to look on the bright side. The clothes were not mine, but I was wearing clothes. I was alone in the bed. The apartment was small and crummy, but clean and well taken care of. There was a bottle of Italian painkillers on the table next to me, complete with a glass of water. The man face down on the couch over there was wearing clothes, day clothes, rumpled from sleep.

Deep breaths. Deep, calming, soothing, not-panicking-breaths. I tried to convince myself that I had been taken care of, not taken advantage of. Based on the evidence, it made sense. I just had to make sure I believed it. Two panic attacks in twenty-hours would be unhealthy.

I took a better survey of my surroundings to keep my mind occupied. The room was one long rectangle. The bed I was in was pressed against one shorter wall. The opposite wall opened into a small raised alcove holding a piano and other instruments. On the wall to my left, there was a small refrigerator, a wardrobe, and a stuffed bookshelf. Small steps led to an open door through which a bathroom was visible. The other wall held the couch and my slumbering host. A table filled the center of the room.

Survey complete, I had to decide what to do. I wrapped myself further in the blankets as I contemplated.

The obvious answer was to flee. Find a policeman, go back to the embassy. Forget this ever happened. But my heart rebelled against this idea. I didn't want to return to the embassy, to my prim and proper, suffocating life.

I had an opportunity here. I had escaped, if only for a little while. I could see Rome, see Rome and really live for a few precious hours before I returned. I put aside the guilt I felt at my guardians' inevitable distress. When I needed them most, they put me under. They restrained me when I needed comfort. They paraded me around like a show dog, tried to keep me controlled for as long as they needed. They owed me today.

The question was, what to do? My clothes were hanging on the bathroom door. I could easily put them on and slip out the door. I was fluent in Italian, I could easily find my way from wherever I was to wherever I wanted to go. Or I could wake my host. He deserved at least a thanks. At least, I hoped he deserved a thanks. And if he was as considerate as I was hoping he was, then he'd be worried if I just disappeared.

My brain was working a mile a minute. I hadn't been awake long enough to deal with things like this. I needed coffee. Caffeine addiction was the one unwholesome thing allowed me. I needed to make a choice.

My choice was taken from me when the man on the couch shifted, stretched, and rolled right off of the couch onto the floor.

I gasped and pulled the sheets up to my neck, freezing in fear. At my gasp, the man on the floor – who had been sitting with his eyes closed and his head slung back – jolted to attention. When he locked eyes with me, a friendly crooked smile appeared on his face.

"Hey mystery girl!"

I just gaped at him. My etiquette training did not cover this situation.

He seemed to sense my distress and put one hand out in a placating manner. "Relax, mystery girl. I'm not going to hurt you. And I didn't hurt you, I promise."

I nodded dumbly. His voice was like silk. He chuckled and got to his feet. "Still quiet, huh? Well, this is a strange situation; I don't blame you."

My breath caught in my throat as he slowly approached me. He looked like a Greek God in the flesh – or perhaps a Roman one – with messy bronze hair and flashing green eyes. I was suddenly very aware of my tousled hair and morning breath.

He stretched one hand out to me with that dazzling smile. "I'm Edward Masen."

I placed my fingers I his with a shy smile. "Bella Swan. Charmed."

It wasn't totally a lie, merely a shortening and Anglicization of my name. I didn't think he'd take Isabella de la Cynge in stride. That name set me apart, made me obviously an aristocrat. I didn't want to be an elite today. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be Bella Swan.

Edward Masen changed his grip on my hand and gave it a quick shake. I blushed. Normal girls don't have their fingers kissed when greeted. You can take the girl out of the palace…

"It's nice to meet you, Bella Swan. And I must say, your name is quite fitting, especially here in Rome."

I blushed. Did he call me beautiful? I had heard it all my life, but never trusted to find truth in the flattery. I believed it when he said it.

"Thank you, Mr. Masen. It is a pleasure to meet you as well."

"Please, call me Edward. What can I do for you?"

I squinted up at him from my place on the low bed, still wrapped firmly in the blankets. "Tell me how I got here?"

He smiled and sat on the bed next to me. I shied away and he moved farther away on the bed. I had realized I was alone, with a strange man, in a strange apartment, in Rome. Why was I not panicking?

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," he apologized.

I shook my head. "Don't be. I'm just a little skittish today." That was the understatement of the century.

"It's understandable." He handed me the glass of water and shook out some pills for me. "Here, I figured you'd have quite a headache after last night."

I accepted the medicine with a shy smile. I couldn't remember why I would have a headache, but I didn't want to refuse his kind gesture. Plus, I was quite thirsty. He watched as I dutifully drank the water.

He took my glass and I prompted, "What happened last night?"

He chuckled. "I found you asleep on a bench. I didn't want something to happen to you, so when you woke up, I tried to find where you lived, but were drunk. All you would tell me was the Coliseum, the Parthenon, or the Vatican. So I weighted my options and brought you here to sleep it off."

"Thank so much for taking me in, that was very kind of you." I frowned, "I don't remember drinking anything." Of course, I had not had any alcohol. I had been drugged by my trusted physician.

It was his turn to frown. "I didn't think you were blackout, but I guess I'm not as good a judge as I thought. Ah well, if you're feeling better, you can wash up and I'll get you safely home."

Well, that was not happening. I did not want to return to the embassy. I also did not want Edward to know I lived at an embassy. So I chose a new option.

"I know how to get back, but thank you. I would like to wash up though, if I may."

A strange smile quirked his mouth. "The bathroom is through there." He pointed to the door I had already noticed. "There are clean towels in the bathroom and you can use all my toiletries. What's mine is yours."

I smiled in thanks, but stayed where I was. There was no way I was leaving this bed while he watched. I was wearing his boxers for crying out loud! I didn't want him to see that much of me. He seemed to realize this and quickly crossed to the small refrigerator. "I'll scrounge up some food for you while you wash up. Take your time."

I took advantage of his turned back and darted into the bathroom with a muttered "Thank you."

The bathroom was small and cramped, but it was clean. It would have to do. I felt dirty and I wanted to be clean today. I was going live today. I didn't want my memories and experience of Rome marred by greasy hair. I showered quickly, using the lukewarm water to wake up a bit.

Once out though, my stomach churned at the thought of going back out there. I wasn't sure how to act like a normal person, how to interact with this 'Edward Masen.' So I took my time towel drying my hair and combing it out. It was still quite wet, but I couldn't stay in here until my mass of hair dried.

So I straightened my shoulders and left the room with a pounding heart. When I entered the room, Edward was pouring a black sludge through what appeared to be cheesecloth into a pitcher. He had changed while I showered.

He looked up and smiled that brilliant smile as I entered shyly. "Ah, the princess emerges."

My face went blank. "Princess?" Surely he didn't know!

He merely laughed. "I guess you don't remember our joke from last night. You called me Prince Charming when I helped you with your shoes, so I called you Princess."

I laughed too, though more at the irony of it all. He had jokingly stumbled upon the truth I was trying to hide.

Thankfully, this sharing of a joke broke the ice and I no longer felt as awkward around him. Edward gestured towards the pitcher of black liquid. "I'm making iced coffee, would you like some?"

"Oh yes." Ah, I would get my caffeine fix today.

Edward began fixing my coffee. "Do you have time? I don't want your family to worry any more about you."

I smiled at his thoughtfulness, but returned with a wry, "Let them worry." I took a seat across from him at his table. "I'm taking today as a mental health day."

He laughed. "Fair enough. So, Bella Swan, do you live here in Rome? That accent indicates you don't."

"No, I don't. I live in England," I lied. I had been told my accent was very similar to the Queen's English. "But you sound like an American, and here you are with an apartment in Rome."

"Yes, I'm American. I hail from Chicago. But my parents and I disagreed about my future, so while on a post-graduation, family trip to Rome, I got a job, got my tourist visa switched to a worker's visa, emptied my bank account into a Roman bank and found this apartment. My parents were less than pleased."

I gaped at him. "You ran away to Rome?"

He lifted an eyebrow at me. "Didn't you?"

I blushed. "Just for one day."

"Fair enough. Just be warned, Rome is quite seductive. I asked my parents for one day to myself and I've been here for a year and a half."

"Why did you run off?" I leaned towards him on the table.

He shrugged. "My parents wanted me to be a lawyer. I wanted to be a musician. But they wouldn't pay for a music conservatory, only Georgetown University. So decided to pay my own way. Moving to Rome was a spur of the moment decision."

"Wow. That is incredibly brave," I marveled.

He negated that with a quick shake of his head. "No, it was rather cowardly. I didn't even tell my parents face-to-face. I left a letter in their hotel and no forwarding address. I call once a month and hang up as soon as I can. Basically, I avoid thinking about my responsibilities to my family."

"What sort of responsibility?" I had no idea normal people felt duty towards their parents.

"Well, they raised me and loved me and cared for me an I haven't treated them very well recently. I spurned their good-intentions towards my future happiness and don't take much care to ease my mother's worry about my health and safety."

I leaned back in my chair and considered this for a moment. "Are you happy here?"

"Immensely," he replied emphatically.

"Could you have been happy at Georgetown or as a lawyer?"

"Most assuredly not. Had I been forced to attend Georgetown, I would have been absolutely miserable. Think _Dead Poets Society_."

I didn't understand the reference, but shouldered on. "Given what you have told me, I do not think you should feel any guilt about your parents. If they love you, they should value your happiness over what they think should make you happy."

Edward stared at me blankly. After a few blinks he said, "That actually makes me feel better. If only my parents understood that."

I laughed, to ease the sudden serious mood. "Call them up. I'll have a chat with them."

He laughed too. "I would, but my monthly call won't come for another week."

"Fair enough," I echoed him. My coffee cup was now empty. "But I have trespassed on your courtesy long enough. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you taking me in last night. I do not even wish to think about what might have happened if you had not."

Edward looked sad. "I also don't want to think about it. And don't worry about 'trespassing on my courtesy.' You are quite welcome in him home whenever. In fact, I would love to show you around Rome, if you'd like."

I pondered that for a moment. "Your offer is quite tempting," I began. It was. He was a fascinating person, and quite easy on the eyes. "But I think this is something I need to do on my own. I am rarely allowed freedom to do as I wish at home. I need a bit of independence today."

He furrowed his brow. "I respect that. But I can't send you out there with nothing. My mother would be even more disappointed in me."

He stood and walked to the bookshelf and riffled through a couple boxes on top. He pulled a couple things out and started scribbling on a piece of paper. Finally he turned around and handed me a small Oriental-looking coin purse.

I looked in. There were several folded Italian bills and a piece of paper. I looked up at him with a questioning look.

He shrugged sheepishly. "The coin purse is my mother's. I took it to remind me of her. The paper has my address and phone number. If you need me, I'm just a phone call away. And well, if you're going to be exploring Rome, I figured I'd give you some money to make it more enjoyable."

I gaped at him, my eyes stinging with tears. It was such a sweet gesture. "I can't accept this."

"Sure you can."

I straightened my shoulders, and told him firmly, "I'm repaying you and sending the purse back to you as soon as I get home."

"Please don't. It will make me happy to think of you having the purse. Plus it will give you something to remember me by, since our first interaction was so forgettable."

I laughed. "You are too kind, Mr. Masen."

He grinned and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. "What can I say? You bring out the protective side of me."

I blushed scarlet as he tugged on my hand. "Come on, I'll show you the way out."

He led me down through the apartment building, which looked quite old and quaint. Once at street side, he took both my shoulders in his hands. "You call me if you need anything, alright? And feel free to come back whenever you want."

I smiled. "Thank you. For everything."

He pulled me into a hug and I froze. This was… new. I forced myself to relax into his bone-crushing hug and hugged him back. "Just stay safe, okay?"

He let go of me and I stepped back. "I will. Bye, Edward."

I took another step back. It was harder to leave than I expected. As I turned to go, he stepped for ward and turned my head towards him. He placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. "Goodbye, Bella Swan."

With my cheeks flaming, I turned and fled down the street. I turned corners at random, not really paying attention. As my grandfather used to say, 'If you know not towards which port you are sailing, every wind is fair.'

I eventually found myself in a bustling market. I was so fun and lively. I browsed the shops slowly, delighting in the experience. I had never been allowed to go shopping before. All my clothes were tailored to my physique.

I was contemplating a pair of sandals – my heels weren't exactly practical – when I realized I was being watched. Leaning on a wall nearby were two shady looking men. I quickly left the vendor I was at and slipped down a side street. The two men followed.

I walked quicker, trying to lose them in the maze of alleys. Too late I realized that I was the outsider here. They were playing at their home court. Up ahead was another turn and walked as quickly as I could towards it and made the corner. There were other people ahead and I headed to them.

The other people turned out to be just as shady as the ones following me. One raised his arm in greeting and I turned to see one of my followers return the gesture.

True fear set in. I had been herded. I was trapped. I had no idea how to protect myself.

I backed against a wall and closed my eyes, wishing one of my bodyguards would appear. Why had I ever left the embassy?

There was a low chuckle in front of me, and I opened my eyes to see myself caged in by four greasy men. They were grinning at me.

"_Ah, a little mousy one. Should be fun,"_ one said in Italian.

"_Looks all prim and proper. We'll muss her up a bit,"_ another replied.

My breaths were coming in short gasps. _"Leave me alone,"_ I whispered.

They just laughed. One reached out towards me and I cringed back.

Then I heard it. _"If you value your lives, you'll leave her be."_ Edward's voice, sounding like pure danger in Italian. I looked up to see him in a fighting crouch, two knives clutched in his hands.

The four men took one look at him and fled the other way.

My knees gave way and I started sinking down the wall. Edward closed his knives and put them in his pockets before he grabbed me and straightened me. "Did they hurt you? Are you okay?"

I trembled in his grip. "I'm okay."

"I'm getting you out of here." He swooped me up into his arms and took off down the alley way.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my head in his neck. I had no idea how he got there, but I didn't care. All I could feel was relief.

The sounds of the market assaulted my ears and I felt Edward come to a stop. He put me down and pulled me into another tight embrace. "Please tell me you're okay."

I wrapped my arms around his waist and replied into his shirt, "I'm fine. They didn't touch me."

He let go of me and I leaned against the wall behind me. "I should go back there and rip their heads off."

I put a hand on his arm. "No, no you shouldn't." The shock was subsiding now and I took in his appearance. He was trembling, his hair all over the place and his eyes wild.

"But they almost…"

I cut him off. "They almost, but they didn't. You stopped them." I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck before pulling him into me. He encircled my waist and leaned his shuddering body into mine. It was his turn to bury his face in my neck.

I gently ran my fingers through his hair. "Relax. Nothing happened."

"But if I had been too late," his voice broke.

"You weren't. You saved me, again."

He didn't respond this time, just pulled me closer. I continued to hold him close, more than willing to sooth my perpetual savior.

**Hope it was pretty good. Let me know what you think??**

**Love always,  
OnlyOneSymptom**


	5. Chapter 4 EPOV

**Hello, my lovelies. I'm back. I was reading through an old story the other day and realized I was writing it during the Celtics-Lakers showdown. Well, in case you're wondering, the Celtics already blew it. So did the Bruins. And last I heard the Red Sox weren't doing so hot either. Bad year to be a Boston fan, oh my brothers.**

**So here's chapter four, I hope you like it. **

**Don't own Twilight or Roman Holiday. (Sigh)**

Chapter Four – Edward

I closed my eyes and kept my face buried in the crook of her neck. I focused on her scent, the floral fragrance that lurked beneath my body wash, and on her fingers running slowly through my hair. I had to keep calm, and not think about the creeps in the alley and how they deserved to be hunted down and –

I repressed that thought with a shudder. To think such things in the presence of an angel like Bella bordered on blasphemy.

"Are you okay?" Bella's soft voice murmured in my ear.

I jolted away from her, grasping at her shoulders and staring at her, aghast. "Am I okay? Are _you_ okay?"

She blinked. "I'm fine. But you were so angry and so upset."

I cupped her cheek in one hand. My hand tingled deliciously at the feel of her skin. "Bella, I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to worry about me. I was angry, and I overreacted." I turned her face from side to side, checking for marks. "Are you alright?"

She laughed. "I'm fine, Edward. I promise. You can relax."

I didn't believe her. Any minute now she was going to go into shock. "If you say so. But please, let me get some into you. I realized when you left that I didn't feed you. Let me remedy that."

She needed sugar, food of some kind. I grabbed her hand and led her to a small sidewalk café looking over the market. She rolled her eyes at me, but sat when I gestured to a table for two.

"So that's how you were able to find me then?" She questioned as we waited for the waitress to bring her fruit juice and toast. "You were tracking me down to feed me breakfast?"

I looked down at the table. "Not exactly. Don't get upset, okay? It's not that I didn't trust you to take care of yourself, it's just…" I trailed off.

"It's just you didn't trust me to take care of myself.

"No," I protested. "It's just…" How to put this? "I just had a bad feeling about the whole thing. You implied that you had never been in a city unescorted before and I got worried. I don't live in the best part of Rome. Not the worst, but with easy access to the worst. I just figured I'd keep an eye out for you for a while."

That sounded far better than "I just wanted to watch you smile, even if it wasn't at me," or "I wasn't ready to give you up yet," or perhaps "I couldn't get you out of my head so I didn't want you out of my sight."

Bella gave me a disapproving glare. "I would be offend at your lack of faith in me, but it turns out you were right." She smiled, a strange and distant smile. "You were also right about my implication. The only place I've ever been unescorted is the bathroom."

I stared at her, stunned. "What about schools?"

She shrugged. "I go to a fancy private school. We're always watched, guarded."

"Friends?"

A wry smile now. "Always chaperoned."

"Why?" I asked bluntly.

She looked away and shrugged again. "It's the life of a child of the paranoid rich." Her voice caught in her throat.

My heart broke a little for her. I imagined her life: never allowed to be alone, not even with her friends, always being watched, never allowed to live. This also probably explained her exceptionally modest clothes.

She still wasn't looking at me. She was watching the crowd intently, nibbling on her buttered toast. I selfishly wanted her attention back.

"That royally sucks."

She turned back to me with a light-hearted laugh. "Yes, it royally does."

"I have a proposition for you," I said slowly. Her eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. "How about I join you on your adventure today? I'll keep you safe and show you the Roman's Rome."

"I don't know…" she hesitated. "I don't want to impose."

I reached across the little table and grabbed her hand. "You could never impose. Come on," I wheedled, "It will be fun."

She blushed. I drank in her beauty. "Alright," she agreed.

I grinned triumphantly. "Wonderful! What do you want to do today?"

Her forehead crumpled a bit. "I thought you were going to show me the Roman's Rome?"

"I am. But you have to give me some direction. What do you want to do more than anything? Not just in Rome, in general."

She appeared to be in deep thought for a few moments. "I want to see the Coliseum," she started slowly, "To eat gelato, to window shop, to sing in the rain, go to a nightclub, and, and, everything!" She threw her arms up in the air at her last words and I smile at her enthusiasm.

"Well, I've got a plan then."

"No! No plans, no schedules, okay?" Her voice peaked.

I shrugged. "Whatever you say. We'll play it by ear." It was a strange thing to get worked up over, but who was I to say anything? Today was about her. "Though I do think I know where we'll go first."

It took me some finagling and several repetitions of "When in Rome", but I finally convinced her to let me buy her some less conspicuously modest clothing. It seemed to be what had drawn the men in the alley to her and I wanted to protect her as much as possible.

I almost went so far as to follow her around the small shop my female coworkers had mentioned several times. But once I heard the shopkeeper mutter something under her breath about undergarments I decided to wait by the register.

My insistence and my waiting had been well worth it. She had been stunning before and I was in awe of her now. Tight-fitting dark jeans outlined her curves below and a dark blue lace-edged camisole revealed them above. Her modesty was protected by a thin cream button-up with the sleeves rolled up. She even had new shoes, some dainty black sandals for dainty feet. More than that, she carried herself differently: she was more poised and less shy and she walked with more of a sway in step.

"Beautiful," I breathed.

She blushed furiously. It lit up her skin in the most delightful way. I could barely keep my eyes off of her.

I paid the shopkeeper and thanked her for her assistance. She responded by making me promise to protect Bella. When my fervent vow to protect as best as I could for as long as I could satisfied her, she gave me a large black tote bag for Bella. It had all of Bella's old clothes and shoes. The tote bag was free, she said, in return for my promise.

I thanked her again and towed a blushing Bella from the store. She took the bag from me and slung it over her shoulder before turning a determined glare at me.

"I will pay you back. Don't forget, I have your address. I'll have double the money you spent sent back to you."

I looked back at her sternly. "Don't you dare. I have the money to spend. I live quite comfortably on my waiter's salary. Last night I played my first paying gig as a musician and the pay is just extra that I don't really need. Send me money and I'll send it right back."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'll pay you back somehow."

I smiled jauntily at her. "Just a letter will do. I have the strange suspicion that I'm going to miss you a great deal when you leave."

She backed down from her confrontational stance and blushed. "I think I'll miss you too."

I smiled, quickly suppressing the urge to dance. "That's very nice to hear. Come on, I've got another idea." I took her hand and we headed off.

I gave her the low down on the buildings we passed on our way to our next destination. Bella absorbed everything with wide eyes and rapt attention, but I noticed something peculiar.

"Why on earth are you walking like that?" With every step she took she seemed to flinch or shudder at something. I couldn't tell what it was.

She looked down at her clothes and tugged on one belt loop of her jeans. "I've never worn pants before. It's a strange sensation. I'm not entirely used to it yet."

"Never worn pants?"

She smiled sadly up at me. "Never. Not even pajama pants. Always dresses or skirts."

I just shook my head in disbelief. "Your parents are a strange pair."

She laughed. "You don't know the half of it. But that's not the point. Could we maybe slow down a bit? I'd like to get used to these contraptions before we go racing around Rome."

"Sure thing. We've reached our destination anyhow." I pointed across the busy square at the Spanish steps. "I thought we'd stop for a bit and let you watch Roman life for a bit while tasting Italy's most famous frozen confection."

I tugged her over to a gelato stand and she kind of bounced a bit in place. "Gelato!"

We ordered and wandered up the steps until we found a spot to sit. As we devoured our sweet treat, I decided to indulge my curiosity a bit. I knew next to nothing about my charming companion and I wanted to know more. To be honest, I wanted to know everything.

"Tell me about yourself."

Her head jerked up to stare at me in what could only be described as panic. "What about myself?"

I let her mistrust slide for now and acted as though nothing were amiss. "Well, I guess I just realized how little I know about you? Why are you in Rome, my beautiful British companion? Why'd you run away?"

She relaxed. "I'm in Rome for the same reason as you, I suppose. Family trip to Rome. I ran away because my family is too controlling and I needed to breathe a bit before returning home."

"What is your family like, besides controlling?"

"I'm an only child. My parents are still together though not necessarily happy. My dad owns his own company and my mother is a housewife." She gave a pensive lick to her gelato. "I'd really rather not talk about home at all, if that's alright. It makes me feel a bit guilty."

"Whatever makes you comfortable," I promised, and moved on to a safer topic than home. "What's your favorite color?"

"Green," she replied with a blush.

"Favorite book?"

"Wuthering Heights."

"Favorite movie?"

"_Sabrina_."

"Favorite subject in school?"

"English."

"Favorite place you've traveled?"

Another blush suffused her cheeks. "Rome."

I smiled. "I'm glad you're enjoying it so far." And then I proceeded with my interrogation. I wanted to know every little thing about her, every trivial detail.

"Tell me more about your parents," I prodded. My parents had both greatly shaped my character and I hoped I could learn more about her by learning more about her parents.

She sighed. "If I must. I don't really know them all that well. I spent more time with nannies and chaperones growing up than my parents. They are both very busy. My dad is, well, he's distant. I know he loves me; he's just not keen on showing it. He's very dedicated to his job and expects everyone else to be as dedicated to everything they do. He doesn't accept less than excellence. I was often a disappointment as a child, as I couldn't always do everything exactly as it was supposed to be done. He was very strict, but always fair at least.

My mom is quite different. My dad was raised to run his family business, but my mom was raised to marry someone. She didn't have much discipline growing up and her only duty was to be charming. When she was young, she was eccentric and wild and beautiful. My father was entranced by her and bent all his dedication to winning her hand. Once they got married, my mom suddenly had duties. She had to be a proper wife and proper hostess and proper society maven. She had to be dignified all the time. It kind of broke her, I think. She's perfectly proper now, without a hint of eccentricity or wildness.

It ruined their marriage. My father still loves my mother very much, but he watches her with sort of a lost expression, as if he's wondering what happened to the charming, carefree girl who stole his heart. My mother, well, she sees him as the symbol of what took away her innocence. She'd probably be resentful if it wasn't against what all proper wives are supposed to be."

She stared off into space for a while before speaking once again.. "Well, that was more than I meant to say."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry." I reached out and took one of her hands. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, still gazing into the distance. I let her and didn't try to win back her attention.

"Are you done with the questions yet?" She asked after a while. "Aren't you bored with hearing me talk?"

"I could never be bored with you. But just one more question and I'll stop." I gave her my best worried face as I tried to lighten the tense mood. "You called your parents earlier the 'paranoid rich.' Are they going to come after me and have me flogged for giving you asylum?"

She gave me a very serious look. "Oh no, my friend, it's the rack for you for sure."

We looked at each other for a moment, and then both dissolved into laughter. The tension was swept away by the breeze.

We talked about inconsequential things for a while. Bella fell silent as she watched the ebb and flow of tourists. I followed her gaze for a bit, experiencing Rome through her eyes.

I overheard a few women talking about some royal visitor to Rome who had fallen ill and how it was all over the news and gosh isn't that just terrible, the poor dear. I didn't really care about the visitor, but realized that I hadn't read the paper that morning. With no TV, I depended on my morning paper to keep me current with affairs around the world and Rome.

It felt kind of strange, not having read the paper. Whole cities could have been destroyed over night and I wouldn't know. It was unnerving. I'd have to find a paper as soon as I could.

**And who might this royal visitor be? Okay, so I know there wasn't much plot, necessarily, but you do learn a bit more about dearest Bella. Let me know what you thought!**

**Your Humble Narrator,  
OnlyOneSymptom**


	6. Chapter 5 BPOV

**My but it's been a while. I'm sorry if I kept anyone waiting, but the last couple of months have been rough. It's been nice to get back to writing again.**

**Thanks go out to Marley, for encouraging me with this story. I was having some problems getting this chapter out, but her desire to see it forced me to finish it. You're the best, dahling. **

**So, here it is. I hope you like it.**

**I don't own 'em.**

Chapter 5 – BPOV

This was quickly becoming one of the best days of my life. Not only was I away from all my retainers, in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, eating gelato on the Spanish Steps with a promise to see the Coliseum soon, but I was also spending the day with a man who nice to me because he wanted to be, not because he thought he needed to. That alone made this day very special.

And Edward was no ordinary man. Or so I had been lead to believe. Common people, especially Americans I was told, were boorish and rude, and never had anyone's interests at heart except their own. The men in the alley way from earlier were how I had been taught how all common men acted. That's why I was always kept under guard no matter where I was. Or so I was told.

But Edward, who should have been all of those things, was not. I had the strangest feeling that if any other man in Rome had found me last night the outcome had would not have been so pleasant. Perhaps I was being overly dramatic. I knew my sheltered upbringing had severely skewed my perceptions and that undoubtedly people were much better than my retainers told me. They had to be or this world would be a far more miserable place than it already was.

Overly dramatic or not, I knew that Edward was special. Very special. There was something about him that put me instantly at ease. I hadn't meant to tell him much of anything about me, afraid that one slip would let him know the game I was playing and who I really was. But he just asked one simple question and suddenly I was spilling my soul onto the stone steps. I had told him everything from my favorite poems to my issues with my parents. And he listened and empathized and didn't judge at all.

I had meant what I told him earlier. I was going to miss him very much. I wished there was some way I could take him with me back to Fourchette, to keep me grounded and sane. But that was impossible. In Fourchette he would know who I was and the magic would end. I did have his address though. Perhaps I could write.

No, my mail was screened and they would track my letter down to his apartment and make his life living hell for sheltering me. And then not only would he know who I was, but he would hate me for the terrible things done in my name. He would be searched, questioned, locked up, subjected to a psychological analysis, and questioned some more. It was unthinkable.

There was no help for it. I'd have to end all contact after today.

The thought broke my heart.

I heard him humming beside me and put aside my musings for another time. I could not waste a single moment in his presence. This was a day that would have to sustain me for the rest of my life, most likely.

"What are you humming?" I turned to my companion with a questioning smile.

"Just a little something that's been running through my mind. It came to me, sudden-like." He smiled back and it warmed me more than the Roman sun.

"Will you sing it for me? Or hum it, or play it, or something?" I wanted so desperately to hear his composition.

"It's not finished yet," he shrugged. "I can't let anyone hear it until it is finished. Except my neighbors, but only because my walls are so thin."

I laughed. "Fine, be that way."

"I will."

I took a deep breath and leaned against his shoulder. It was very bold of me, and I know it would be frowned upon by my retainers, but I could not help wanting to. Thankfully he just leaned his head atop mine. "You've heard all about my life," I said, to break the silence. "Tell me about yours."

Edward slung an arm around my shoulders. "Well, most of it has been pretty boring. I was born and raised around Chicago. My father is a businessman and my mother a housewife. They were good parents, on the whole. I went to the best schools and was always encouraged in all my pursuits as a child. As I grew older, they grew less tolerant of my "fanciful ideas," as they called them.

They were very down-to-earth people, and I suppose that's why we had such arguments. They were infinitely practical, and I was an idealist. I wanted to live for my music, and they wanted me to live with money to put food on the table. While my mother had once delighted over my musical inclinations, she later would interrupt my practicing to ask if there wasn't something more useful I could be doing.

That hurt, a lot. So when they told me in no uncertain terms that I would be attending Georgetown University, I began making plans of my own. I moved here on a whim, as you know, and since then have been working as a waiter in an upscale restaurant and trying to get jobs as a musician. I finally got one last night and it went very well. I think my music career might finally be taking off. That's about the entirety of my life, right there."

I leaned into him closer. "I'm sure there is much more to it than that, but that will do for now. What sort of instruments do you play?"

"All sorts, though my true love is piano. Aside from that, I play acoustic and electric guitar, the cello, the violin, and the banjo."

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "The banjo?"

"Hey now, don't look down on the banjo. It is a lovely, but very under-appreciated instrument and is not just for hicks from _Deliverance_." He looked sort of offended.

"I don't know where Deliverance is, but I'll take your word on it." It was amusing to hear that the well-educated, supposed-to-be Georgetown bound, cello-playing Edward was also a banjo enthusiast.

"_Deliverance_ is not a place; it's a movie that gave banjos a very bad reputation. People joke that if you are so far out in the woods you are hearing banjos that it is time to hightail it out."

I shook my head. That didn't make sense at all. Surely the dangerous parts of the woods were where there was no one to play the banjos? "I see," I lied. "I'm sorry I insulted your precious banjo, however slightly."

"Apology accepted," he sniffed, his nose up in the air as he affected a wounded air. I giggled.

We sat in silence for a few more minutes before Edward leapt to his feet, hauling me up with him. "Come on, sweet, we're wasting daylight."

"It's not wasted," I insisted as I allowed him to lead me down the steps. No moment of today was wasted.

"Still, we have lots of things to do today. I'm still trying to figure out how I can arrange a rain shower so you can dance in it." Now down from the Steps, Edward threaded his fingers with mine and we began a leisurely stroll across the square.

"Don't worry about," I said, examining the cloudless skies. "Next time I'm in a rain shower I'll try my best to go dance in it. That way you won't be considered slacking in your duties."

"That's very kind of you," he smirked. We continued our way through the throngs of tourists, never once lessening the grip of our hands. It felt wonderful to be connected to him, even in that small way.

We walked for a few more minutes before Edward pulled me over to a small stand. He handed the stall manager a few bills and then waited as the man disappeared into a small shop behind the stand. The man returned with a scooter and two helmets.

Edward grinned at me. "This will make our trip a little quicker. And more fun, I should imagine."

He got my helmet situated on my head and I tried not to hyperventilate at how close his face was to mine. When we both had secured our safety equipment, he got on the scooter and motioned for me to do the same.

"Have you ever driven one of these?" I questioned skeptically.

"Never. Should be fun, huh?"

I backed away a step. "I don't think so."

Edward pouted and turned the devastating effect of his eyes on me. "Please Bella? Live a little."

That did it. I was here to live, after all. One day of brilliant life before a lifetime of duty. His begging may have assisted the matter as well. I climbed on the back of the small motorbike and wrapped my arms around him tightly. I didn't want to fall off, after all.

He sped off and I tightened my hold, shrieking. I could feel him shake with laughter against me. I tried my best to watch the scenery we passed as he wove his way through the winding streets of Rome. Unfortunately I found myself distracted by Edward's movements.

One thing caught my attention though. There were several police officers about peering in the faces of all the brunettes they passed. I even thought I recognized one of my bodyguards. I was ever so glad that the helmet covered my face and hair. Hopefully there would be no police at our destination. Or perhaps they wouldn't even check me, being so strangely dressed as I was.

Thankfully, there weren't any police on princess-duty at our destination – the Coliseum. And there weren't any at any of the other places we visited. Edward spent the rest of the morning and some of the afternoon showing me around all the famous buildings and sites of Rome. It was magical and more than I ever dreamed of when I dreamed of Rome.

I passed the hours in a haze, clinging to Edward's hand as if it were the only thing keeping me from drifting away altogether. I became convinced that this was all a dream, a marvelous dream brought on by whatever drugs Dr. Cullen had given me the night before.

Reality came crashing down after our small lunch.

We were sitting at another sidewalk café when Edward noticed someone hawking newspapers. From where I sat I could see that the front-page story involved the illness of the princess of Fourchette – me – complete with pictures. Edward stood.

"I'm going to grab a paper, alright? I always read the paper and I'm feeling a bit out of touch with the world, going without today."

"No!" I exclaimed, jumping to my feet.

He turned to me in surprise. "Why not?"

I sputtered as I tried to come up with a plausible excuse. "Well, it's just, you see…" I paused. Inspiration struck. "It's just that today feels like a day out of time, a small bubble of happiness. Letting the world in feels…wrong somehow."

He considered this. "I won't tell you any of the news, I promise. I just want to make sure no one has started any new wars in the last twenty-four hours."

"Please?" I stared up at him with my hands clasped and tried to pout. I'd never tried it before – never had a reason to.

He pouted right back. "It makes me feel more connected with home. I'll just be a moment and then I'll be right back, no big deal."

He turned around and began walking to the newsvendor. My heart clenched horribly and my eyes began to tear up. It was a big deal. In a few moments my secret would be revealed and this beautiful day would end. I turned and ran to the scooter. Edward had left the keys on the table and I scooped them up as I ran.

I could hear someone shouting "Signore, signore!" as I hopped on the bike and started the ignition. I awkwardly began to maneuver the bike away from the café. Just as I started to really get in the bike moving, there was a loud thump and something hit me from behind.

Before I could scream, I felt Edward's arms around me. "What on earth are you doing?" He shouted in my ear as I sped away.

"I had to get away," I called back. I was starting to cry, I couldn't help it. He couldn't know, he just couldn't.

He wrapped himself tighter around me and I pressed myself against his comforting warmth. "If you really didn't want me to read the paper that badly, you should have just told me. You didn't have to commit grand theft auto."

My eyes blurred over with tears. "You wouldn't have understood," I said, trying hard to keep my voice even. I could barely see for unshed tears.

"Hey! Watch out!" Edward suddenly called. His hands let go of my waist and went to grab the handlebars.

Too late, we went careening into a scarf vendor's stall. I shut my eyes against the horrible sight of the oncoming stand. There was a magnificent crash and I screamed as our scooter fell over and landed under falling debris.

I cringed away from the falling stand, only to find myself covered by Edward. There was a crash and then I silence. I lay still, trembling between Edward and the scooter. Slowly, Edward lifted himself off me. I could hear pieces of wood sliding off of him and I sat up.

"Are you okay?" He asked quietly.

"Are you?"

"No. You are crying. I am not okay."

I sniffed. "I'm alright. I just, well, I made quite a mess, didn't I?"

We looked around. The small side street where the stall had been located was a mess. The stall I had crashed into had pushed into another stall, causing its collapse into yet another's and on down the line. The whole street looked like a war zone.

Edward pulled me into a hug. "I'm sure they won't mind too much. It's no big deal."

Half an hour later we were in a police station, handcuffed. The last of the stall owners – the large man who own the scarf shop – had just finished venting his grievances. I was still crying silently. Finally the police officer turned to Edward and I.

"_What do you two have to say for yourselves?" _He asked sternly.

I was at a loss. I had no idea what to say. Sorry, I was just trying to get away from this man because I like him too much for him to know my name? That wouldn't work so well.

Thankfully, Edward spoke up.

"_I'm sorry, officer. My wife and I are on our honeymoon and we rented the scooter to tour your city. She got a little excited,"_ he lied smoothly.

I tried not to let the shock show on my face. Instead I turned my face up to his and put on a face of vapid adoration. He stared back down at me with an equally tender look. I tried not to laugh at the spark in his eyes and the hint of a smirk around his lips.

"_Honeymoon? Are you newlyweds?"_ The police officer questioned.

I smiled brilliantly and snuggled closer to my 'husband.' _"Since yesterday."_

"_Congratulations!" _Suddenly the air was alive with laughing and clapping and Italian felicitations. All the owners of the stalls I had ruined had silly looks on their faces as they hugged us and kissed our cheeks and shook our hands.

I laughed and smiled too as I accepted their heartfelt congratulations. They ushered Edward and I out the door with nostalgic smiles on their faces.

We kept up our looks of puppy love and our entwined arms until we were well away from the station. Then we proceeded to fall into a bench and dissolve in laughter. When we our giggles finally died, I sighed and rest my head against his shoulder. I was tucked under his arm against his chest and felt perfectly at home.

I looked up at him. "So, married, huh?"

He blushed. "Hey, it worked, didn't it? Don't worry, I promise not to hold you to it."

I feigned shock. "You're divorcing me so soon?"

He laughed and tightened his grip around me, cradling me against him. "Don't worry, Bella, I won't let you go if I can help it."

**And there you have it, folks! Chapter Five in all its splendor and glory. Please let me know what you think. I'm still uncertain about this story, sad to say. **

**Love you all, always.  
OnlyOneSymptom**


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